


Hopless County - FC5 One Shots

by Modifier_x



Series: Far Cry - One Shots [1]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: All the key guys are here, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Eden's Gate Cult, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Character, Multi, Polyamory, Religious Conflict, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-20 17:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19380988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modifier_x/pseuds/Modifier_x
Summary: I decided to put all of my one shots together in one story rather than lots of lil ones.Tags and such will be updated as things come.





	1. Enraptured by him

Sucking the dick of a fanatical cult leader is not something I thought I would do, namely since I have been actively trying to destroy his cult by blowing things up and killing his followers. Here I am in his home, feeling my lips stretch over flesh, tongue lightly moving around him warm mouth tight, as I glided down half of his hardness my head is pulled back his tip barely lingers in my mouth.

"What a sight you are deputy."

It is but a moments reprieve before the hands tangled in my hair pulling my head forward sliding him right back into my mouth, taking him further inside. Fingers trailing up his legs, pulling his pants lower on his thighs as he worked his cock in and out of my mouth.

His calf muscles tight back arched pushing him deeper into my throat as his hands pressing my head towards him.

Raised on my knees, hollowing my cheeks and picking up the pace. Tracing fingers up to the inside of his left knee, up to where his leg and body met. Lightly cupping him, fingertips brushing the skin behind his balls. My other hand grasped his lower shaft, holding him still as I used the tip of my tongue to trace the pulsing vein running from the tip of his cock to my fingers, saliva running down my knuckles as my mouth is used.

The sharp thrusts slow to a halt, Joseph drags a hand from my hair letting some fall around my face, as my tongue followed the wet trail back to the tip of him. I raised my eyes, one hand still wrapped firmly around the base of him as I let go and wiped the spit off my chin.

Now both my palms were slick as I worked them the up and down his length, squeezing a little, the pressure making him harder against my fingers. I know there should be shame in being on my knees before this man and yet as I work his length with mouth and hands, I find none, just the throbbing of my cunt and the burning lust of moving on from merely tasting.

Deep moans escaping his mouth as I released him. He watches me lick my lips; my chin covered in wetness.

In one motion I raised up, grasping the back of his thighs, at the crease where the curve of his ass met his taut leg muscles. I spat on the head of his cock, opened my mouth as wide as I could and covered my teeth with my lips as I roughly slid down on the length of him.

The pull of my mouth, cheeks sucked tight against the sides of his cock, the suction unbreakable as I exhaled and he slid further inside. I could feel his cock hit the back of my throat. He grabbed more of my hair with a sharp hiss as he slammed into my mouth. The sound of gagging on his length, knowing how deep I had sucked him in, made him utter low, guttural curses, no holy man should utter, from deep in his throat. He thrust once more, his jeans sliding to the ground pooling unelegantly around his still booted ankles.

I had heard his noises, eyes watering and moved with his hands guiding me, feeling myself gag and still taking him further, salivating even more. His final thrust and the explosion of him in the back of my throat, I swallow, tasting him until there was nothing left.

His voice is whispy as he pulls my head away, "Look at you..." even on my knees joseph feels larger than life, as the hands in my hair dip and drab me to press chest to chest with him. "You sin so beautifully," The hands around me shift as I am hoisted legs wrapped around a trim scared waist as he awkwardly kicks off his jeans and boots, somewhere along the short way to his bed the rest of my clothes and such are lost.

More clothing that will need to be recovered after this event.

Pinned under The Father feeling the drag of lips and the tips of his long hair that curtains his face before all at once he stops, his hands light and mouth lighter against my skin; then he's licking and using his fingers all at once, watching my reaction, feeling how my legs move, watching my body writhe my skin flushing as I arch into his attentions.

He tells me he's going to make me beg for it and I just let out a moan, unable to articulate a response. In seconds he's on me again, just long enough to intoxicate my mind before stopping again. If it's begging he wants, he's going to have to stay long enough for my brain to start working again first else he will only hear the moans dragged from my lips as he wraps his lips around my clit laving the little pearl with attention.

It's my fingers catching in his hair and tugging that pulls him away, chin and beard covered in my slick, eyes glazed over slightly, teeth bared in a feral way as I drag him back up the taste of myself tangy and tainting the kiss I pulled him into. Hands drag from my thighs to my hips pressing himself to my heat, "I wonder what your rapture sounds of?" He mumbled into my throat as he began to ease my warmth down onto his tip, "Oh my..."

I didn't reply and only gave a small squeaky sound from somewhere in my throat. Chuckling at that, he starts making my hips roll back and forth on his hardness. The rough bounce set by Joseph leaves me leaning back, neck bared as I prepare to meet the pace of his hips.

All the while Joseph was highly enjoying himself, the nerves and walls of the deputy caressed across his sensitive member making his whole being filled with a trembling and twitching pleasure. Raising his head and latching his lips onto my neck and sucked at the skin over and over, each time was hard enough to leave red marks dotting my light skin, a mark not as permanent as he would have liked but it was his mark nonetheless.

Without hesitation, my teeth firmly dug into the junction where Joseph's shoulder met his neck, edging on the carved word of 'sloth', and held on, one dark mark for all the ones now littering my skin. The sharp pain followed by a shiver of pleasure made him give a guttered groan as he widely mouthed and scraped his teeth along my neck causing welts to rise amongst the suckled marks.

The cry was muffled but still loud as I came, for a split second Joseph thought that a concerned faithful would come in to investigate and witness his joining with the deputy, when nobody came storming through the door after a moment he returned full attention to bringing his release. It was closer now due to the dripping walls threatening to strangle him.

Josephs growls and jerked my hips down onto his a little harder then he intended causing his balls to clench and his shaft to shudder, bringing forth a gasp. The feeling his thick essence flood against my walls the gasp trailed onto a moan, slumped forward his forehead pressed to my collarbones as my walls swallowed everything he had to give.

After the pleasant aftermath, the two of us melted into each other, bodies tingling and numb. All we could do was pant into each other and recover our breath, or at least that is what I did as Joseph let out a rumbling laugh.

"Oh, My dear deputy,"

_"How lovely you look caged under me..."_


	2. A Quiet Moment in her Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nice fluff for the BDE, master of the strap Faith seed.
> 
> Big gay, big fluff.
> 
> They are married and good lord does this woman love faith.

I loved the quiet days, the ones of silent radios and silent clocks. I loved the random sounds that came sailing in the breeze; the birdsong came so sweetly, almost real as if it were softly spun sugar. I would sit there upon the clouds that were my dreams until, as the ones above are so prone to do, they condensed to form the random ideas that quench my mind. It was on those quiet days that ideas came as natural things do - from the sunshine, rain and earth.

Or maybe it was the bliss that always hung around our home.

On these quiet days when everyone left soon after eating, it was a chance to enjoy pottering about. With the music on and nothing but the trees for company, I slowly put my small world in order. I can honestly say that those days were my salve, a chance for the spinning top of ideas, that carousel of duties to slow and occasionally stop. It was as if I had honestly been given the day, and I could bow to the way the world is, this crazy notion that to relax one has to do nothing or be pampered... or do what I love.

I loved to make everything look clean, to bake, to garden and write whatever ideas were drifting by that day. I thought of those days as if someone had granted me a button to stop the war for a day so that I could breathe and have the serenity of wakeful rest.

My quiet days were feathers without hurry, moving this way and that in the air, happy to change direction according to the wind. Just as the feather will in its own sweet time be at rest upon the earth, so the sun will rise and set high in the sky. In each gifted moment between them, there is such freedom, an infinitely branching path with no paths at all. And in that complete liberty, there is a need for the calm kind of patience, the one that is content to await the trail to glow, to show itself worthy of adventure, of curiosity, of enchantment.

Today was the kind of day that the flags fell to the poles and things felt somewhat stuffy inside and out. That was the start of August, the month where nothing moved unless it had to and here in the little home my wife and I had no want or need to move. Despite the call from the father earlier in the day asking for my wife and I to be present at a sermon in the twilight hour of the next day.

Our bed was soft and warm. I could leave my arm draped over her, more comforting than any blanket she had ever lay under. She was perfect in her nightgown and the bed sheets, seeing her at peace beside me is worth the hardships she endured to get here.

I ran my hand over her back, the soft hairs tickling the tips of my fingers. I could feel the bones through her skin, the vertebrae of her spine looking as though they tried to pierce through parts of her flesh. Her skin was rougher than I remembered. Before the church, her skin was smooth and soft, but now it was as coarse roughened by the days spent in vigil with the bliss. Her hair had grown so long now; a thick, blond-brown mess that slips through my fingers as I card my hand through the ends of it.

Poets often describe love as an emotion that we can't control, one that overwhelms logic and common sense. That's what it was like for me. I didn't plan on falling in love with her, and I doubt if she planned on falling in love with me. But once we met, it was clear that neither of us could control what was happening to us. We fell in love, despite our differences, and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created. For me, love like that has happened only once, and that's why every minute we spent together has been seared in my memory.

I'll never forget a single moment of it.

When she rolls over and peers up at me blinking the sleep from her eyes and muttering about 'Too warm bodies' and 'you useless woman', I know just how much I would give for her. Everything, should she ask the world I would give it to her in a heartbeat, ask of my the difficult and I will do it right now, the impossible? It may take a little while, but I will do it for her. She looks up at me with her sleep addled expression and kisses me. As cheesy as it sounds, it's just like the movies. For that single moment, time stops. I don't care about the sweat forming on my shoulders, in fact, I don't even notice.

It's just her and I.

There's no church, no seed family, no bliss, just us.

Tilting my head, I look at her still laying back in our bed. She kisses my cheek, and I move to face her, wrapping the blanket we had kicked away around us both. The world around me blurs as I look into her eyes. My arms reach and tangle around her waist, pulling her spin into a lazy arch. I listen to her breath in sharply when my skin meets hers, her arms encircling my neck drawing me in, a soft smile on her face.

"Good morning, did you know your hands are cold? Despite the heat too!"

I laugh slightly and drop my head to rest on her collar, "I do now, but that will change quickly," one of her hands drift up my neck and musses with my hair, a finger slipping between the strands and attempting to flatten the few that stand out from the rest. "You know it is Saturday..." I let my voice trail off as I lean up and press another kiss to her cheek, "No work, no sermon. We can sleep the day away if you like, stay here in bed indulging in sloth. Faith and her sinner?" a small hum of agreement is all I get in response before the blanket that had pooled around my waist is yanked over my head.

"really?"  
  
Laughter from my wife is what follows as I attempt to remove the damned blanket when I am finally free and back on my side of the bed I pull her close and wrap us back up under the sheets of our bed. "Better? no cold fingers?" another huff and a shuffle closer is all I get from my wife before she goes back to sleep, her head on my chest and hands drapped across my stomach leaves me feeling whole.

I loved the quiet days, the ones of still radios and silent clocks. I loved the random sounds that came sailing in the breeze; the birdsong came so sweetly, almost real as if it were softly spun sugar, but I mostly enjoyed the quiet days for the time I spend with my wife.

There is nothing quite like these moments with her.

She may be Josephs Faith, but she is my Rachel and no matter what I love her.


	3. The Fathers Pride

Words left me.

I stared into those blue eyes burning with something dark, and my heart fell silent. “Deputy” he whispered. But I couldn’t will my lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as he pointed a shaky finger in my face. “Do you still think me a false prophet now!” he Bellowed. But my mind was blank and my eyes wide as I stared at him in horror. His eyes desperately searched mine… waiting. I had to say something! I searched my mind for something reasonable to say, but to my surprise, my heart answered for me, “Kill me.”

I know tensing against the shaking of my limbs is useless but I do it instinctively, trying to suppress for a few more moments what I know I cannot. I need to drink in the silence to counteract the fear that threatens to engulf me. This kind of thick silence would generally chill me, especially after all that has happened since what was meant to be the final confrontation. The silence was poison to me, for in that void of sound the shallowness of my silent anger was laid bare. What used to be a stream of intellectual banter about the world and comedic moments was utterly gone.

Shock and despair are what linger in the air.

The father and I alone with little knowledge about when the rumbling above will end, but shaking hands draw my face to him "Pride my child, you will be changed," eyes roam my face tracing the features he will know well. "You are my child, and I. Your Father,"

"Together we shall walk through Edens Gate,"

Soft fingers drag across the tops of my cheeks and shift some of my hair away from my face, I have never seen Joseph cry, well not in person at least, and I believed I never would, but now when our friends and family had died, he cries just as I do. I am pulled into him cradled against his chest, Clammy skin against my cheek that heaves as joseph sobs violent things that catch slightly when he exhales.

Shakey breaths and shivers are all I can manage as my emotions run empty, in the arms of The Father, the one man I was hell-bent on stopping, who has now fallen silent after the heaving sobs of earlier. "I did so much wrong, and yet here we are," Joseph begins to shake again before pushing me away from him, resting a hand on my shoulder and the other cradling my face. "You fought so hard, and here we are,"

"I was right! And you. You will come to accept that..."

He looks so ragged and rundown, yet the fire of his insane fanaticism burns in his eyes. I have no doubt that if I cannot escape or tamper josephs fire, we will walk into Eden together whether or not I want to


	4. Furbies Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If your reading this, know that you have been selected.
> 
> You don't need to do anything, we'll come for you.
> 
> Welcome.
> 
> To Furbies Gate.

"Something is coming. You can feel it, can’t you? That we are creeping toward the edge… and there will be a reckoning."

You know by those words you would think some tall, imposing figure would stand before me arms stretched to the sky calling to their flock to understand their words. Yet what we come face to face with is anything but.

The Furber, Joseph seed. Charismatic cult leader, Holy Man, and  _Sentient Furbie_.

One of the three Brothers! Or so the file says, lord knows how a furbie can have a brother but here they Waddle? Across the small stage area that holds the Furbers pulpit.

"That is why we started The Project. Because we know what happens next, they will come. They will try to take from us. Take our guns, take our freedom. Take our faith. We will not let them!"

I now understand the need for the baby harness, there is no way in hell we would be able to cuff this small fluffy, white children's toy but with a glance towards the marshel that had made quick strides into the church, I knew we were indeed after the small bundle of fake fur and plastic.

"We will not let their greed or their immorality, or their depravity hurt us anymore! There will be no more suffering!"

As we close in on the small white ball of religious zealotry, two others and a blond woman come to join him on the raised area. “There they are. The Locusts in our garden… You see they’ve come for me. They’ve come to take me away from you!" Seeing a Furby preacher is pretty high on the list of things I thought I would never see, but a furbie preacher that is bouncing behind a wall of the angry (and surprisingly diverse crowd for rural Montana) cultists is even higher or well not even on there, to be honest.

None of this was.

"They’ve come to destroy all that we’ve built! We knew this moment would come. We have prepared for it."

"Joseph seed! I have a warrant for your arrest, on the grounds of kidnapping with the intent to harm!" Watching as the sheriff and the overly aggressive marshel dealt with the crowd I get a few glimpses at the other small balls of religious fluff.

One is quite clearly burnt, edges torn and sharp, hell even one of its ears is just exposed metal jutting from a section of an exposed endoskeleton. My money is on that being the 'Eldest' seed, Jacob. The other small bundle of glaring plastic is well kept, albeit with some magic marker scrawled across its chest, whoever made the coat on the damned thing needs to 1. think about there life choices and 2. make one for an actual person, know at least two little boys that would love one just like it.

"Go.  _Go_ … God will not let them take me.”

You know maybe I should have had Pratt do this arrest rather than say I could handle it, cause it is getting hard to keep a straight face as the small preacher toy waddles towards the marshal, sheriff and I.

“I saw when the Lamb opened the First Seal, and I heard as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts say, come and see…"

Definitely should have gotten pratt to do this.

"And I saw, and behold it was a white horse… and Hell followed with him."

Damn, assigned Hell by furbie. A hell of an addition to my resume...not.

"God will not let you take me.”

I doubt it will be god and more the sheer fact that I don't want to place this small plastic lunatic on my chest on a harness. "Cuff him rook!" Snapping to look at the marshal I am shocked he even said 'cuff' rather than 'detain' or 'restrain because the Furber is a furbie. It has no arms, no wrists, nothing to cuff hence the bright blue baby harness currently sitting across my chest.

“God is watching us… and He will judge you on what you choose in this moment…”

God, I did basic, years in the academy and now here I am grabbing a Furby and placing it in a fucken harness as two others watch me do so.

“Sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone."

Fuck should have just been a dancer, no sentient furbies with cults or people willing to die for three lumps of plastic and fur, and their deranged sister that only speaks in fucking furbish.

**_Welcome to Furbies Gate, and my eternal hell._ **


	5. A Baptists LIttle Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We horny on main for John, technically in the same timeline as the smut with Joe.

"What I want is simple, your confession delayed, and dear Hudson is left in peace in turn for..."

Companionship.

I was expecting as such, the look on his face mixed with the need to be completely alone for this confrontation had already told me what he would have wanted from me, namely Joseph and his order to have me join his crazy ass family. The silence was poisonous in its nothingness, like a gaping void, needing to be filled with sounds, words, anything and yet I cannot find any words that would ease the building tension.

Words have left me. I stared into those bright green eyes burning with something I would rather not address at this moment, and my heart fell silent. “Answer me, my dear deputy,” a whisper tinted with a familiar smell of fresh mint. But I can’t will my lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as he moved, smooth hands against the chilled skin of my cheek.

"It is just one word, and all that fear you have could be gone. Now, answer me, as my patience is running thin," yet my mind was blank and my eyes wide as I stared at him.

We sit knee deep in silence.

I can feel the fear in my chest waiting to take over. Perhaps it only wants to protect me, but there really is too much hanging on this one decision. It sits there like an angry ball propelling me towards anxiety I just don't need. The air is dense, the concrete is chilling, and I can hear water dripping in the distance.

"Deputy, it's just one word..."

The warmth of the Baptist standing so close should have felt soothing through my shirt and yet akin to the heating vent embedded above us none of the heat met my skin. With John caging me into this chair and with no room to maneuver/talk my way out I find my self-amitting defeat and whispering a 'Fine, yes John'.

So softly I had hoped he would have missed it.

He did not.

I had thought with how he had pressed that his need for 'companionship' would have been what followed an admittedly reluctant acceptance, yet after I had agreed, I was dismissed. A nod and the widening of an almost feral smile is all I got from him as he pulled away, no words or grasping hands, no small pulls or pushes towards or away from anything just that smile.

I will admit that I took every chance I could to avoid John and his territory, I even made a move into Jacobs mountains after a month of avoiding the place like the plague, but it has been a time and a half since that day, and still, he has made no apparent move towards demanding anything from me. Well until today that is, it was winters last gasp, the first week of spring when the wind bites the hardest and the cold stings everyone's cheeks.

'Deputy. A rather cold night to spend alone...'

Sneaking up to his damned ranch after his short call over the radio, and so here I stand before the baptist's door hand lifted to knock. Breath held with the hope that he might not be inside. But hopes and wishes often don't come true an today was no different I knocked, and he answered the same scowl he wears painted on his face as he looks at me.

I was apparently not what he had expected as when I am yanked into his living room, he stands with a small stack of envelopes he was quite clearly waiting on a courier. I was left standing awkwardly behind him as he stood in waiting for the messenger, I felt slightly sorry for the man that arrived as catching a glimpse of the deputy within the baptists home was not something he had expected and stiffened instantly before scampering away.

After the messenger had gone, John finally addresses my presence beyond the rude relocation to the inside of his home. With his back to me, I can't tell if he is still scowling or has taken to the smug smile he wears so well, "So finally you've come, who knew all I had to do was tempt you with a warm home amongst the winter cold."

"You know damn well that not why I am here John. What did you want?" I snap out to grab at his shoulder to make him turn to me.

The movement is sharp and quick, lean strength against chilled nerves? I had no chance of avoiding his grasp, I am finally able to see the expression on his face and once more if looks could drip from ones face this room would flood.

But with what emotion, I am not sure.

"I have your world at my fingertips and the power to unmake you. I would be less hasty to act, would be a shame to have to tell my men to take Hudson back to confession," my wrist is dropped, but not before I feel the slight drag of a finger against the veins, two steps and I am left by the door "Now I would suggest tempering your wrath little bird-"

"Little Bird?" a second Seed to call me such and still no explanation.

"-Yes little Bird, you flit and flee like one. Now tell me," The steps taken from me are retracted, and I am pressed to the wall by the door, "Do you dream of me? Of what you agreed to? Does it echo in your mind when you sit alone?" the drag of well-kept skin against my cheek draws my attention for a moment before the press of a buckle, and something just as hard beneath, is felt through my clothes, an arm looped around my waist and a hand tightly holding my jaw keeps me in place.

"Tell me to do you dream of me?"

Once again John pulls all words from me, an answer lingers on my lips that I fear to speak.

'yes'

I know I'm anxious when I feel the stillness of the room more keenly in my eyes; it's that tearless stage when the eyes take on a sheen of water, and tension builds behind them. I need to shake it off. Now isn't the time or place for tears. Today is a day for false confidence, anything to avoid voicing the confirmation rattling behind my teeth. My fingers wrap around John's hand, feeling how cold his fingers are compared to the warmth of his chest pressed to mine.

Silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground, yet one whisper brings shivers like bare feet on ice. "Do you think the taste of my skin will haunt you?" the taste of his skin? A kiss that could be tempered with southern spices and shameful enjoyment. Shifting sideways, I know what is coming and look away his hand reaches under my hair below my ear, thumb caressing my cheek, leeching warmth from my skin.

His lips brush mine. Not innocently, like a tease but fiery, passionate and demanding. I want to pull away, yet his lips are chapped, and my bones are aching. I can taste the sharp tang of mint, as he pulls away I can feel more than hear the growl that follows.

"Tell me, will you dream of me? Will I be a nightmare to plague you or will stay and keep your word?"

John pushed himself away, empty air filling the space between us followed by the thump as my back falls back to the door the noise likely ringing through the night and drawing attention. A moment to gather himself or a moment for me to escape? I have little idea, but before I could make a move, either way, a hand snags my wrist dragging me forward and further up an into his home.

Pushed and pulled like a doll upstairs and into a darkened room as the hardwood and metal of the door is replaced with odd bumps and crinkling paper as I am corralled towards John's desk.

His arms caged around me, pressing against the cold desk, stacks of paper falling over and pens rolling to the floor, clattering in the silent air of the room. The heat from his chest burned my skin, so close I couldn't tell if he was touching me or not. Was he gonna kiss me? What is going on in his head? His eyes are dark with lust and something else that lurks just behind that.

He shoves himself back looming rather than pressed close. "You're uncertain still, and yet I am going to enjoy watching those eyes water as I ram my cock down your throat."

Moisture pooled in my mouth as the image bombarded me. The scene of my lips wrapped around tan skin, nose buried in wry hair, eyes watering with the effort to take it all. It's the sharp vision of white teeth and the rumble of a deep laugh that had me lost, I blink and moments pass by. John's hand had slid under my shirt and dragged away the loose fabric, a hand smoothly flowed up and fell to my chest, slipping beneath my bra.

Somewhere between the thoughts of wrapping my lips around him and the press of his body to mine, I had lost whatever was screaming for me to not do this for now all that I could hear was the shaking of my breath and the pounding of my heart in places it is not.

Heat exploded up my neck. My body slumped against him, drinking in the smooth slide of his skin on mine. His palm engulfed my tit and squeezed, squashing the skin between his fingers. My nipples hardened in the chill of the room, and his thumb flicked, scratching the sensitive tip and sending a quiver down my spine.

Lips parted, and a moan caught in my throat.

"What a sight you are little Bird, barely touched, and you are chocking back sounds," a growled remark from a man that should not make me shiver as I did. My eyes had fallen closed when he began, breathing short and sharp the sound harsh in my ears I had gotten to carried away, to lost in the moment that such little touch had gotten me so worked up. But it is the sudden press of warm skin to my chilling flesh and the sudden tilting of the world as I am dragged from the desktop to wrap my leg around the baptist's waist.

A wall presses cold against my back, unforgiving wood behind me and a relentless man keeping me pinned to it.

I feel hot breath on my neck, then the brush of lips burning as they make contact. A hand runs through my hair, as the kisses become harder and more urgent his other hand slides around my waist and pulls me close to him. His kisses are now along my shoulders and trailing down towards my breasts, I'm trying to be indifferent. It doesn't do to let someone with an ego like his know how much power he has.

I don't lean in, don't make it easy or seem too keen. Then he brushes my hair back from my shoulder and moves in so close I can feel his lean body pressed up against me the hand still in my hair grasps and the pull forcing an arch, breasts bare and presented to him.

But instead, he leans in a whisper of touch against my breast, slow and gentle, almost not there. He's making me wait, and I can hardly bear it. I want his lips now, I wish for a firm touch, not ghosts of what he could be doing.

The hand in my hair and the one clasped around my waist guide me down away from the warmth radiating from John, there was no waiting, no hushed words, no rough actions. Just a tug at my hair and a push to express his desire for my tongue circling his cock, for a man so lean in build his strength is not to be underestimated, pushing me down to kneel before him.

It is with those inked hands I am made to grasp at his thighs. The sound of my panting and the sharp click has him grasping the material and freeing his cock from the tightness.

My breath swirled warm and gentle against his skin, breath sucked in sharp with anticipation. No sane woman would do this, and yet here I am kneeling before Edens Gate's Baptist willing to do such an act. His stomach muscles taut, causing his cock to jump, the chill of the air paired with the freedom from dark jeans brings a sigh from barely parted lips above me.

Long fingers sliding through my hair, guiding my face towards his hardness.   
A kiss to the top of his cock, a wet, salty drop of him smearing over my mouth. Tasting him, taking him in. Feeling my lips stretch over golden flesh, tongue lightly moving around him warm mouth tight, as I glided down half of his hardness my head is pulled back barely the tip lingers in my mouth.

" ** _What a sight you are little Bird._** "


	6. A Gunpowder Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"Fuck you seed..." a harsh voice from the cages littering the space before us, the deputy a thorn in the projects side since they evaded capture on that fateful night.

Seeing them the way they're now, tired, hungry, dirty, and fearing for what is to come makes me thankful that I was chosen to serve under the soldier and not lost like the poor fool of an officer. Just seeing their face, I could tell the kind of exhausted the sinner was, it's a kind of tired that needs more than a good night's sleep. Like it's a heavy jacket that became heavy bones. It was then I knew that being tired could be wearing of the emotions too, that it can come together with a tired body, and become an ingrained part of a life that isn't lived, but survived, endured.

The kind of tired I see to often in the solider when he finally retires for the night or well the very early morning of the next day, he sleeps so little, and the dark circles of his fatigue make his speeches more intimidating but draw worry from his family and myself.

Being out here by all the dirt and slowly dying prisoners makes me ever thankful that my place is locked away indoors, kept close to the soldier's desk. Always in reach and if not then still in sight, a favoured kind of thing unlike the deputy before us dirty, scrapped and barely being held together, I am kept clean and pristine like the trophy I know I am.

Our brief adventure down to the deputies cage was likely the only time I will be out of the office till Sunday and Jacob makes his way down to the compound for the still weekly sermons. You would have thought with all the fighting, and such The Father would change how he preaches but still at 9 am sharp a sermon is held and broadcast on the radio to those still working away in the bunkers.

Being handed off to Jacobs right-hand man, my little outing has come to a close back to the beige walls that slowly peal, and the musty smell of the judges that drifts up from their pit pen.

\--  
God, it had been hours locked away here, no Jacob, no peaches, no anyone or anything bar the ever-present 'only you.' Mixed with the noise of the yard. I am a precious thing, or so Jacob likes to say, but why do I get locked away so much left on my own? As if there is no need for me.

Thoughts of such a nature were thrown aside as the heavy thumps of boots came to a halt at the door to the office, a slow creak and sigh were all the noise needed.

Jacob had returned.

"Fucken John, demanding the deputy the moment I get my hands on them..." gruff words that trail off as gentle fingers wrap around my neck, "At least you don't go running off at any moment, or drag my brother from his job." Lifted and moved, lain gently on the old soldier's bed, likely just as old as he and half as old as me from how the springs creak under our combined weight.

"not like John would know what to do with you anyway," it's a familiar pattern to fall into, his weight above me, ragged breathing, hushed noises, deep grumbles that melt into groans that would wake the dead had we been anywhere other than the top of the centre.

"Fuck..."

Lost in his revelry the rushed footsteps, and calls of a chosen to 'hold on' and 'He asked to be left alone' are lost to rapture. The door slams open old paint falling, and the wall more than likely now dented reveals a well dressed John, anger written across his face till he finally lands on the scene within the room.

" **GOOD LORD JACOB!** " eyes covered and head turned from his older brother, the baptist of holland valley could only hope that one day he would be able to forget the sight of his brother masturbating atop his rifle.

"What like you haven't jacked it in that fucking plane of yours!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	7. Bloodstained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short (like really short) thing about a deputy after one of their trials.

**_Genocide._ **

Eight letters to describe more murders and pain than the human mind can take in. After one or two deaths, there is a catastrophic malfunction, and no more is understood, no more emotion forthcoming. One death is a tragedy; a thousand of them is a news report. I'm here though; I'm here on the ground surrounded by the bodies, unable to comprehend how this happened.

All I know is that the mountains hold no reprieve from this war, not so long as the solider haunts my mind.

They were all unique, and now they are meat for the buzzards that don't even live here. Perhaps that is the problem with bringing math to issues of humanity, don't tell people numbers, show them names, who the victims were on the inside.

But I don't know these names, and their blood stains my hands and the ground I walk, I am nothing of importance just something weak, hiding away in the mountains and hoping for the best as if ignoring what had begun would make it all go away.   
\--  
It is easy to say that abandoned houses tend to creak, not in the creepy horror movie kind of a way, generally speaking, but more of in the "oh shit, I should probably get out of here before this thing collapses on me" kind of a way. This was a house that had you hesitant to even step through the doorway.

That said, I stepped through anyway, ignoring the stupid creaking. It wasn't collapsing any time soon, and, if it did, I was going to survive. I passed by cracked windows and mouldy, browned wooden walls with water stains painting as scars upon the skin slivers of light shone from the outside as if invited in to ignite these dusty hues.

Dust lay over every surface like dirty snow, pristine dust layer, not a footprint anywhere, dust bunnies the size of bowling balls tumbled across the floorboards toward unseen skittles, free papers piled up and cascaded to the foot of the rough wooden stairs.

Stale air, thick with dust, shafts of light bursting through gaps in the boarded-up window, sun streaming through the holes in the heavy velvet curtains, absolute silence, not even the hum of a refrigerator.

The houses only occupants weaved their webs between the spindles of the stair railings and from the ceiling to the wall, old cobwebs billowed in the draft. Resting here would be better than wandering the cliffs hoping for an abandoned prepper bunker, at least in here the chill of the mountain is muted.

In the morning, when my joints cracked, and muscles twinged at the gentle movements, I knew it was time to rejoin it all. Eli would be worrying where I was and why I had yet to check back in, Boomer was likely waiting for me like the good boy he is hidden away in the wolfs den safe and sound. This war waits for no one, especially not for _The Deputy_ should have listened to the piss goggled bastard, in the beginning, sometimes it is better just to leave well enough alone.

" _Fucken cult..._ "


	8. A Faithful Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big Gae for Faith.

She had smooth, dry skin with small freckles sprinkled about like confetti. Her eyebrows curved in swooping arches over her eyes and her small button like nose completed her broad forehead and blunt chin. These features would not turn heads, or make anyone look twice; they were normal, plain even.

But her eyes were like the stars, the way they drew you in to explore the swirling emotion held in their depths. The black of her pupil was surrounded by a ring of jagged silver fire swallowed by sapphire blue.

At one glance her eyes merely shone, but if you dared to look closer, you could see the sadness of heartbreak, the joy of love, the hope of the future, the pain of sorrow, and the fire of a spirit that would never give up.

Every summer, we would go to the lake to jump from the high rock, just for the thrill of falling. For those precious seconds, we were suspended in the air, limbs flailing, mouths agape. Then splashdown, right under the cold water before rising with hair plastered to our faces, spitting water like some lame water feature.

But that was years ago; I left, more like fled with my mother from a father more interested in drinking and hands heavy against the skin. I still have the pictures of Rachel, and I kept close a beautiful kind of sadness to recall the girl I called a friend and fell in love with before the world tilted the wrong way and small-town roads turned into sprawling urban streets of a big city.

A promise made in the quite of the night, a kind of goodbye without the real feeling of leaving 'I will come back to you.' It's been near eight years since I left the small town of falls end, eight years since I said farewell and now I am back a uniform and badge that names me law, order, and safety our it would if others with this badge acted as such.

There are whispers of a woman in the henbane, a siren, plain-faced with a voice to chase away the demons in a person mind.

Faith they whisper, something like fear in their words as if saying her name aloud would summon her from the fog that has begun to roll over the green hills by the river. It was pure chance that Pratt and I were called out to deal with an incident by the old conservatory, lots of memories of Rachel and I there but nowadays another family owns it.

The seeds, people fear them because they swept through the town winning over churchgoers and the like, creating a cult-like group based around the end of the world but honestly they don't seem so bad. Sure john the little brother drives to fast on back roads, Joseph or The Father has to be asked away from street corners twice a week for preaching, and both the eldest and the little adopted sister are rarely seen outside of their church.

But within the conservatory, all four seeds stood waiting, but only the one I could focus on was Faith or well Rachel, high, delicate cheekbones, small nose, luminescent blue eyes, creamy smooth skin, and silky blonde tresses it was like the world had stopped when she finally looked up at me. Eyes wide in shock? Or maybe disbelief, but the moment was over too soon as whatever we were needed for was dealt with, and Pratt was guiding me away.

_"Take care, Deputy Morris..."_ a whisper as I pass my old friend and her new family. 

She remembers me, a soft smile sits on my face for the rest of the day and not a week later the flowers come, sweet white lily-like things they smell sweet and bring thoughts of how it used to be. Only when the call for The Father's arrest has me aboard the helicopter, do I think again about Faith I could have gone back to see her try and restart the friendship I so quickly lost.

We should never have done this; the chopper crashed the others were taken dragged away bar the Marshel and I. Hiding in bushes and helping Burk survive a firefight was not on the top of my list for activities to undertake on this night. Not by a long shot and yet here we are bombs, bullets and the calls of Peggies echoing onto the night as we try to make our way out.

\--

When we hit the water, the world warps, and colours flash behind my eyes. Weightless I give in, let go I know in the back of my mind that I should struggle, fight, survive, but something else has flooded into my system it feels like bliss, pure all-consuming pleasure like sinking into a hot bath after a long day at work or hot chocolate on an autumn night.

Only before the dark takes me, light floods through making me scrunch up my face. Somewhere to the side of me, I can hear Burk call out to unhand him followed by the sharp crack of a gun and the crumpling of what could only be a body, letting my eyes flutter open I can see floodlights on trucks surrounding the bank that I have been dragged up onto. Peggies wait guns trained on me as if I could do something in this state.

Haloed in the pure white light she comes, that white dress and a soft voice cradling me close. "Your safe now, no more running, just bliss," a giggle and then green, misty green that smells like the flowers dying on my desk back at the station.

**_"I'm so glad you came."_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to make a request if you want.


End file.
